"Gosh, that last adventure was amazing," Shepard said, packing up his arms and armor into his locker. "Really memorable stuff happened back there."

"Really memorable," Garrus echoed. "Remember that—?"

"Do I ever! You don't even need to repeat it. That's how cool it was."

"Totally," said Garrus. "Hey, where should what's-his-name put his stuff down?"

"You mean the last living Prothean in the galaxy? I don't know. Wherever... Wherever he wants to go, man. We're practically an ambassador's ship right now. Sorry, I'm still riding that Last Mission High"

Liara burst into the cargo bay, her eyes whipping around to scan every inch of the room. "Where is he!"

Shepard smiled and shut his locker. "You mean the—?"

"The last living Prothean, yes! Where is he?"

"Ah, that's right, Protheans are a pretty crucial part of Liara's backstory. In fact, that's how we met. Remember, Garrus?"

Garrus nodded. "Oh, I remember, all right. It was back at that dig site on Therum, when the Geth dropped two Armatures almost directly on top of us. I call that chapter of our lives Geth From Above."

"Nice."

"Right?"

Garrus and Shepard high-fived each other.

"Will you both be quiet for one moment!" Liara started bouncing up onto her toes. "Where's the Prothean, Shepard?"

"See, Garrus? It's important to her! It's important to her story arc. Wouldn't that just be terrible to hack off that catalyst for some really great character moments and story consistency and sell it separately as downloadable con—Oh, my God, we forgot about the summit!"

Commander Shepard is Easily Distracted

"Plan B from Outer Space"

Shepard paced at the airlock, waiting for the pressure to equalize between the two ships. The little light above the door pulsed red and slowed in frequency every few seconds. "Please, please, please, still be here. Please, please, please, please..."

"It's been two weeks, Shepard," Garrus said, adjusting his formal wear. "They've probably all gone home... to decide how they're going to kill each other before the Reapers do the job first."

Shepard groaned. "There was better cooperation during the Crusades."

"Have you thought about what you're going to tell the ambassadors when you get in there?"

"I'll think of something."

"Say we were busy visiting our friend in the hospital."

"I'm not gonna use coma-Kaidan as a shield, Garrus."

"I've got it. We'll tell them we had to take a detour to help some colonists."

"I'm fairly certain they'll want details."

"We got a distress call from the Traverse and decided to investigate. We landed north of the colony, used the nearby forest for cover, and took up overwatch near the colony. Cerberus was conscripting colonists, so we opted to take action. You hit their commander with a downwind shot at 321 meters, surprising the bunch, while we flanked from both sides of the colony. We suffered two casualties but no deaths, the remaining Cerberus forces retreated, and the colonists were checked for injuries by Dr. Chakwas before we got offworld. Mission accomplished."

Shepard nodded. "Sounds like something we'd do."

"It's crazy detailed. They'll have to believe it."

"Who was injured?"

"James took a bullet in the knee—"

"I hate you."

"And you pulled a muscle from the kickback on your rifle."

"Why do I have to be injured?"

"Because you made that amazing 321 meter shot. You can't do something awesome and come away clean. That's not how stories go."

"Tell that to Blasto."

"Oh, you." Garrus scoffed. "That's different."

"Don't see how."

"Shut up."

The light started to pulse slow enough that it was solid for a few seconds. But the door didn't open.

"I'm just gonna tell them the truth," Shepard said. He started a breathing exercise to help with the nerves. No ambassador during a war summit wants to hear that one of their own was late because he wanted to catch a movie. At least, no ambassador that he was aware of. "They're just... They're just gonna have to understand that I can't be everywhere at once."

"You have one of the fastest ships in the galaxy, I don't think they're going to buy that." Garrus murmured to himself for a moment. "Tell them you got stuck in traffic."

Shepard glared in Garrus' direction. "You're right, Vakarian. I'll tell them I got stuck in traffic. In space. The Pillars of Creation were backed up all the way to Alpha Centauri. It was gridlock."

"Take it easy, Buck Rogers, I was just trying to help."

"Yeah, well..." Shepard ran a hand over his face, exhausted from waiting, from nervousness. "I think the only kind of help I need is a miracle."

The light turned green. The airlock hissed open.

The turian primarch was on the floor, crawling toward the airlock. "Thank the Spirits! I thought you'd never come!" His hand was clutching a wound on his chest. "You have to get me out of here!"

Shepard and Garrus exchanged startled glances, then turned to the center of the meeting room, past the injured primarch, to find the krogan and salarian ambassadors dead on the table. Their lifeless hands were still wrapped around each other's throats.

"The krogan wanted the genophage cured," the primarch explained through gasps. "The salarian refused. I refused. We didn't really have a Spectre-shaped buffer there, so we just ended up attacking each other. I'm not even sure who started it. All I know is that I'm the only one left."

The turian cackled maniacally. "But we can get those krogan back! There's a turian weapon on Tuchanka, a remnant from the Krogan Rebellions, that will cause massive casualties when we activate it. Just let me send word to my son, and he'll set off the bomb, no problem!"

Shepard grimaced. "Yeah, about that..." He hit the button to seal the airlock.

"Wait!" the turian primarch called out, but the hatch closed shut before he could finish.

"Well!" Garrus cleared his throat. "You've only recently learned what a primarch is, but you've already let two die on you. Well done."

"This is bad."

"Agreed."

The red light pulsed red again. The pressure shifted in the airlock, causing Shepard's ears to pop.

"So what do we do now?" Shepard asked.

Garrus shrugged. "Wait until the door opens, I think."

"No, about this whole war asset thing. I have exactly zero support from the council races. How am I supposed to save...? Eh..."

"Earth?"

"That's the one. How am I supposed to save Earth if I can't get support from anyone?"

"Good question." Garrus scratched his chin and watched the pulsing light for a few seconds. "There's always the quarians. And didn't you help out some Geth with Legion last year?"

"Hey, yeah!" Shepard snapped his fingers. "We could get in touch with the Flotilla and see if—"

Joker's voice crackled through the intercom. "Did you two already meet with the ambassadors?"

"They're dead, Jeff."

"Wha—?"

Shepard clicked off the comm. "Anyway, if we can get in touch with the Flotilla, we still might be able to pull this off. By then, Admiral Hackett might be finished with his Death Star, and we can kick those Reapers straight back into Dark Space. Yeah! It's fool-proof is what it is."

Garrus seemed to mull it over for a bit, then shook his head. "Even if you could get the quarians and the Geth to help you out, would that be enough to protect the Crucible? Don't forget, we still haven't found the Catalyst either."

Shepard grunted; he'd forgotten all about the Catalyst. "What's with all these MacGuffins lately? I feel like we're in an episode of Lost. The Catalyst is probably a polar bear or something—or a light switch on Mercury."

"Maybe..." Garrus laced his talons together, in deep meditation. "...we're the Catalyst."

"Or maybe it's like The Matrix and we just have to accept the Reapers as an inevitability."

"Woah." Garrus blinked. "Maybe us just doing what we're doing now is beating them, huh?"

Shepard and Garrus pondered the mysteries of the Crucible and the Catalyst in silence, the possibilities pervading their every thought. The light above the door pulsed red again and went solid.

"Really, I hope the Crucible's just a big space gun," Shepard said.

"I second that." Garrus yawned. "This airlock sure takes a long time to cycle."

"Reminds me of the elevators on the Citadel. Back in the day, that is."

"Good times."

"Yep, good times."

Garrus smiled. "So, it's off to see the quarians, then? Maybe we'll see Tali there."

"Gosh, look at you."

"What?"

"Why can't you just come out and say it? You like Tali."

Garrus snorted and waved away the assertion. "I do not. We're friends! We're all friends here. Since the Saren days and all that."

"You can't fool me, Vakarian. Nothing gets past me."

–

"Are we still able to proceed as planned, Councilor?" The Illusive Man took a drink from his glass and awaited Udina's answer.

"You may proceed, Illusive Man," Udina said with a slight bow. "You have the fleet and guard rotation schedules for the Citadel? I sent them last night."

"I do, and they will most definitely prove very useful during our little visit. I believe our alliance will only enrich our respective goals here." The Illusive Man went to light a cigarette, but picked up his bourbon glass instead. After several unsuccessful attempts to smoke his bourbon glass, he realized what he'd done. "When you only do two or three things a day it's easy to mix them up. Ever put a carton of milk in the cupboard?"

"Erm..."

"Don't answer that. Is it possible Shepard's aware of what we're planning?"

"Doubtful. He walked in on our conversation earlier and didn't connect the dots. He's not the most, ah... cognizant person in the galaxy." Udina looked away from the screen. "Also, I accidentally forwarded my Cerberus application to Shepard instead of you, and that was a couple weeks back. I think Commander Shepard will be the least of your problems, sir."

"Very good, Councilor." The Illusive Man attempted to drink from his cigarette pack. He quickly tossed it away. "We'll be in touch."

–

"Like a fox," Shepard said. "Just admit it, you like her."

"I won't admit it," Garrus replied. "We're just friends."

"Come on. She's a nice girl! You two would be good together."

"She's a good friend."

"I bet she's got reach, Mr. Flexibility." Shepard playfully nudged Garrus on the shoulder. "Eh? Get yourself in the middle of some... Tali-brations."

Garrus snorted. "Nice."

"Right?"

"All that aside: we are going straight to the Flotilla, yeah?"

"Straight to the Flotilla. No detours," Shepard insisted. "No distractions."

Commander Shepard is Easily Distracted

"The Spectre in the Rye"